


A Second Chance

by Moll98



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anger, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ballet, Dancer, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Eventual Thranduil/OFC, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealous Thranduil, Jealousy, Love, Major Character Injury, Mirkwood, Nudity, Original Character Death(s), Pain, Piano, Romance, Sexual Fantasy, Sexy Times, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole, Thranduil being an asshole, Thranduil x Reader - Freeform, artist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-28 04:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6314521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moll98/pseuds/Moll98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aisling Blake, a bar maid from Cork, Southern Ireland, hasn’t got much left to live for. When her car is run off the road, instead of the eternal darkness that she assumed came with death, she woke up lost within a forest in a strage, new world. Aisling realises she has somehow wound up in Mirkwood, in Middle Earth, and is brought before the great King Thranduil of the woodland realm. Has Aisling been given a second chance at life, and possibly love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is the first fic I've ever done. I'm gonna post the first chapter (it's hopefully going to be a longer story) but will keep posting if people like it so please comment with any feedback about if you want the rest! :) Please be kind aha
> 
> By the way, Aisling is pronounced Ash-ling  
> This is how i imagine Aisling: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/57/5d/26/575d26bc3a9316febed8b6d2a7ecfa72.jpg  
> and this is how i imagine Angus: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8jLqr2yQfVg/VY4YBsHIWXI/AAAAAAAAXHE/9aRiXVjl3oE/s1600/Stefano%2BMasciolini.jpg  
> but feel free to imagine them however you want
> 
> Aisling's necklace: http://ak1.ostkcdn.com/images/products/9214610/P16384373.jpg

“Are you seriously still reading that old book? You must’ve read it at least ten times!” Aengus exclaimed after looking back at me from the couch. Head buried in my book, I hadn’t even heard him. At the sound of my non-existent reply, Aengus slid off the couch and sauntered over to the kitchen where I was perched on the counter. “Aisling!” he yelled, making me jump and distracting me from my favourite book, ‘The Hobbit’. “What is it now, dear? Oh, no no wait, lemme guess…hmm, yet again you’re incessantly moaning about my pitiful life”, I snapped. At this, Aengus narrowed his eyes, but still proceeded to moan: “ You have to stop this! You haven’t been outside in days!” Before I could point out that this wasn’t actually the case, he added, “and going out to work in that sleazy bar does not count Ash!” Okay, so he had a point – I was kind of a shut off and hadn’t made many friends since moving to Cork, unless work colleagues counted, but it wasn’t up to my stupid brother to dictate my life! I was quite happy being a recluse…sort of. I sighed inwardly; how had my life become so meaningless? That thought sobered me out of the dark cavern that is my mind, and I realised that this whole time Aengus had continued to rant, and had just realised that I wasn’t actually paying him any attention. “AISLING!” he shouted. Now that made me jump out of my skin, dropping my book in the process. I knew he was just worried about me. I mean, being twins, our relationship had always been a close one, however, after the car accident and death of our parents, I’d noticed that Aengus had become much more protective, and even a bit controlling when it came to my life, which did not sit well with me; I’ve never liked being told what to do. Sure, he was just concerned about me like a good brother would be, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating, and it had been the cause of many tiresome arguments.  
After giving Aengus a long, withering glare, he realised that he had pushed a bit too far and changed the subject. “Are you working again tonight Ash?” he enquired. “Uh yeah, I practically had to beg Tony to give me a shift though. I’m not sure how long he’s gonna keep me for – I’m not exactly the best barmaid around”. Aengus looked at me with pity, however I could tell his patience was wearing thin – we had only planned to live together in this cheap shithole until we were both on our feet and earning a steady income. When we had first moved here we didn’t have much money and so we’d agreed to share until we were both on our feet. I knew I had to move out soon so that Aengus could move on with his life, but I just couldn’t afford to do that right now. Aengus had managed to get a well-paid job at a top graphic design company, however I, despite having trained as a doctor, found no available positions in the local hospital, and had only been able to get a few odd jobs that had ended as quickly as they started. I’m currently working part-time at a seedy pub owned by a guy named Tony, and had been for a few weeks now. However, I have very little patience with the drunken, handsy customers, and I often lashed out at them, which meant Tony quite often lost customers – I guess you could say that he had become less than impressed with me. I could sense that quite soon I’d get the sack.  
The tension our kitchen was palpable – I’d neglected to tell Aengus this out of fear of his reaction. Aengus let out a strained sigh, and quietly said, “Alright, I’m sure we can sort something out. Mom and dad wouldn’t exactly want you living on the streets now would they”. I bristled at the mention of our late parents, gave him a curt nod, and stalked off to my bedroom so I could change for work. My shift didn’t start until 9:00pm, a few hours away, but I couldn’t stand to be in that room anymore. I could hear the sigh that Aengus let out as I left, despite his attempt to muffle it, and mentally cursed myself for being such a burden on him.  
The car accident that caused our parents death was still painfully fresh in my mind, despite the fact it had happened nearly 3 years ago. My dad had been driving, but had to swerve to avoid a drunken man that had stumbled out into the road. Our car had run right off the road and crashed straight into a wall, killing both my parents in the front seat. We had been on the way back from a family dinner, celebrating Aengus’ graduation from art college, when it had happened. I let out a humourless huff of laughter. ‘Funny how one little thing could change the course of history’ I thought. What would’ve happened had that man know that agreeing to go out for a drink with some old friends and getting shitfaced would cause the deaths of two people and severely injure two more, destroying a family in the process. I had never drunk since that night, out of fear of what could happen. I still had one large scar as a cruel memento of that night. It wasn’t an ugly scar, just a faint line, but it stretched down the length of my neck, blemishing my otherwise flawless skin. It had slightly affected my confidence, but I was also kind of proud of it in an odd sort of way. It was proof of my strength, and showed what I could survive. I had definitely grown mentally stronger since the accident as now I can stand up for myself; it had given me determination. The experience had even helped me become a better doctor because I could understand the trauma that people were going through when they were rushed into my operating theatre. Of course, none of that mattered now that I couldn’t find a job as a doctor.  
I reached into my large wardrobe and grabbed my work outfit. It was just a simple, black cocktail dress, but it did flash quite a lot of skin. What can I say…you need all the help you can get if you want good tips. Whilst slipping on my matching black heels, I hopped over to the floor-length mirror to give my outfit a once over and touch up my makeup. I absolutely loved clothes…and shoes…and hair…and makeup. I particularly loved this little dress, as it let my thigh tattoos peek out under the skirt but kept the ones on my back covered up. My tattoos were all in the mandala style, and nice and detailed, rather than great big hulking tats. I admit I am a stereotypical girly girl, but I guess not as ‘blonde’ as they often come. Something that always surprises people is that I’m surprisingly prone to violent outbursts; you’ll find I am easily irritated. I naturally took great care over my appearance, and enjoy getting dressed up, although sadly, I rarely have the opportunity these days. I was born with vibrant red hair, identical to Aengus’, but over the years I had gradually dyed it bright blonde. Both Aengus’ and my hair naturally fell into soft curls, but unlike my brother’s short hair, mine reached down to my waist. I have soft facial features and pale skin, which made my blue eyes stand out. As we were born and raised just outside of Cork on a small farm, both Aengus and I had soft Irish accents.  
The farm was the main thing that I missed about my old life, apart from my parents, of course. My father used to take me riding in the surrounding countryside, while my brother stayed behind to play with the other animals. Aengus had never trusted the horses after being kicked by one as a youngster, much to my amusement. I absolutely loved riding the horses; it allowed me to escape into the countryside – I had always felt so free when I was outside, and couldn’t stand being cooped up indoors. Confined spaces have always driven me mad, and my mild claustrophobia didn’t help either.  
Once I was satisfied I was ready, I walked back out to find Aengus on the couch again. I picked up my sketchbook from the side table and sat in the worn leather armchair opposite him. He had drifted off to sleep as he’d been working until pretty late recently, and so I quietly opened my book to a new page and began to sketch him. His face looked so peaceful and serene, but he had this funny habit of deeply furrowing his thick eyebrows as he slept, giving him a moody look, which I found quite endearing. I found that drawing was the best way for me to vent any anger or tension and it really helped to relax me. I’d discovered this many years ago and had gotten very good at drawing over the years, without wanting to sound big headed. My mom had been an incredible artist so I guess I must take after her. Aengus, on the other hand, was just like my father and didn’t have a single artistic bone in his body, but he seemed to like me sketching him. Only half an hour later, as I was just finishing off the details of his face, Aengus slowly began to wake up, but as he saw I was still drawing he kept stock still until I was done. We stayed like that for another half hour or so, just chatting happily. My rumbling stomach surprised me and I went to grab a snack from the fridge; I must admit I love to eat, but luckily I also had a passion for athletics, giving my body the perfect balance between toned muscle and natural, soft curves. As Aengus was making some toast, I went around our apartment picking up my stuff to take to work – my car was incredibly old and unreliable, and I wouldn’t want to risk being stranded without my few belongings. I stuffed my phone, purse, sketchbook and pencils into my white leather tote bag. Last minute I decided to chuck in my beloved ballet pumps so that I could head to the gym to practise my new routine after work. I picked up my mom’s favourite, old necklace from the coffee table and fastened it around my neck. It had been a wedding present from my grandma to my mother, and my mom had given it to me shortly before she died. It was worth quite a bit of money, but I could never sell it – it was the one thing that I had left of her. The necklace itself had a large ruby in the centre and was surrounded by smaller diamonds, which is more extravagant than I’d usually wear out, but it was the sentimental value that made me put it on. When I was wearing it I just felt like she was here with me, which is ridiculous I know, but it helped with the pain of losing her. I just happened to glance up at the clock and suddenly noticed the time. “Oh shit!!” I yelled, making Aengus jump and drop his toast. He scowled me, “what?” he asked. “I need to be at work in a few minutes! I’ve gotta go!” I replied. It was at least a 15 minute drive so there was no way I was gonna get there in time. ‘Great’, I thought, ‘this is gonna be another black mark in my book’.  
Just as I went to grab my car keys from the table, Aengus snatched them up and held them out of my reach. Him being a good 6’2”, and I only 5’3”, I couldn’t even reach them on my tiptoes. “Hey! C’mon! I’m already sooo late!” I exclaimed, pouting my thick lips and giving him my best puppy dog eyes (which I’ve perfected if I do say so myself). Aengus started chuckling and lowered his arm a little so that I could cling onto it and snatch my keys away. Everybody so far had fallen victim to my puppy dog eyes, and it was a trick I was all too happy to use. Yep, I was completely guilt-free. “Sorry” he said, mirth filling his eyes. “I just love your face when I tease you. You look absolutely outraged”. “Oh for goodness sake” I huffed, “I’m officially gonna be super duper late now, no thanks to you!” And with that, I grabbed my bag and put on my mint green duster coat. I quickly gave Aengus a goodbye kiss and slid out of our apartment door, keys in hand.  
As I made my way out of the apartment building, my mind drifted to thoughts of the ballet training I had planned to do after work. I really needed to practise because I have a super important professional dance show coming up, but I was just so tired. I’d perfected my pirouette and pointe work so I reckoned I could get away with not going today. I had been doing ballet since I was a toddler and continued to practise for the past 20 years. I often took part in professional competitions, and as a kid I had dreamt of performing in front of thousands, however I soon discovered how competitive and cutthroat the dance industry was. Whilst contemplating this, I found I had reached my car in the building’s underground parking lot. Even now I got nervous whilst driving and sometimes had flashbacks of that fateful night which stole my parents away from me. I pressed the unlock button on the keys to open my old, shitty 2001 BMW. I chucked my bag onto the passenger seat and hopped in, making sure to strap my seatbelt on. The key turned in the ignition and my baby slowly roared to life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisling heads off to work, but things take a turn for the worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware, very descriptive death which could upset some readers

I pressed my foot down on the accelerator and pulled out of the empty parking lot. Despite it taking a good 15 minutes to get to work, it was actually quite far away, but I could drive pretty fast down the smaller lanes, making the journey quicker. I made my way down the main road of my neighbourhood until I got out of Cork, and then these busier roads became smaller, deserted ones, which twisted and turned, following the edge of a large river. As the car picked up speed I felt even more on edge and I tried to focus all my attention on the road, although my thoughts had a bad habit of drifting off.  
Eventually I settled into the journey, however as it grew darker outside, an unpleasant feeling grew in my stomach again. I’ve always hated driving at night when it’s dark, but ever since our car accident, I’ve detested it even more, so I usually don’t go out late at night to avoid driving. That’s why I normally work during the day, but because I was skating on thin ice already with my boss, Tony, this unpleasant late-night shift was the only one he would give me and I couldn’t afford to say no to him.  
Half way into the journey, I heard my phone ring; ‘oh God’, I thought, ‘that’s probably an angry Tony, asking where I am’, so I reached into my bag and rummaged around for my phone. My eyes gradually drifted away from the road, and over to my bag on the passenger seat so that I could look for the phone. I soon found it tucked in one of my pink ballet pumps and as I grabbed it my hand got tied up in the ribbon attached to the pump. As I was trying to shake my hand free, I quickly looked up to the road and saw I was headed straight for the cliff face, having drifted out of my lane. ‘Oh. My. Fuck’ I thought. I grabbed for the wheel and quickly swerved the car back into my lane, and away from the cliff next to me. My heart was beating furiously in my chest, thumping painfully against my ribcage. No longer could I hear the river, but only the sound of my blood rushing in my ears, as answered the call. Sure enough it was Tony. “Where the HELL are you, Ash?! And why are you breathing so heavily?”, he demanded. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I had to think of a good excuse…and fast!! “Umm, hi Tonyy… I, uh, I had some trouble starting the car… had to get some guy to give me a jump start… that took a while as there wasn’t exactly many people about…”, I tentatively replied. “Don’t you try and bullshit me, Madame. You better get your ass over here, NOW, or don’t bother coming in at all”. ‘Oh dammit’, “Don’t worry Tony, dude, I’m not far away now, gimme a few minutes and I’ll soon be there”. “Okay, you better not be lying to me Ash, ‘cos I can’t take this anymore, you’re losing me money! Just hurry up”, he said gruffly, and with that, he hung up.  
‘Oh my fuck’, I thought, ‘I seriously need to get my act together’. I chucked my phone over my shoulder onto the back seat in frustration, and turned my full attention back to the road. By now, the rain was like sleet, and was violently battering against the side of my car, the sound like bullets, as I sped down the twisting roads. I could only see a few metres in front of me because I still hadn’t replaced my dying headlight bulbs, dammit, so all around I was surrounded by pitch-black darkness. I could just about make out the outline of the think pine forest to my right and the smell of the pine had wafted into my car. To my left I couldn’t see anything at all, not even the edge of the cliff, but I could hear the fast-flowing river below, which put me on edge. All this darkness reminded me of the night my parents died; it was just as dark, and quiet, and deserted. My thoughts wondered to the dark, depressed corner of my mind, remembering that fateful night. The scream of my mother. The deafening silence of my father. The excruciating pain. It had felt like hours until any help came, and the whole time I had been painfully awake, surrounded by the still, unconscious bodies of my family.  
It was the sound of a car horn that drew me out of my thoughts. I couldn’t see any other cars around, so I couldn’t tell where it had come from. That is, until I felt the side of my car cave in as another smashed straight into the right side of me, after coming out of a side road. My body would have been thrown across the car, if not for my seatbelt holding me in place. My head, however, smashed against the door’s window; I heard a loud cracking sound and felt something wet and warm trickle down my forehead, as I grew dizzy. An intense pain shot through my body and I tried to move my legs to get away from the side of the car, but I was stuck. My legs had been crushed in the foot well by what I assume used to be the car door. I couldn’t move a muscle. The car soon came to a stop, balancing dangerously off the edge of the cliff, the back end hanging out over the river. I faintly registered someone shouting at me to get out but I couldn’t seem to pull my thoughts together as my eyes drifted shut. I was clutching my bag on my lap but it was smeared red. My car let out a loud creaking sound as it slid slightly further over the edge and suddenly the shouting grew louder and more desperate, but as the deathly blackness took over and I lost consciousness, I could only register a feeling, which can only be described as like being on a rollercoaster, as the car and I finally slipped off the edge. The sounds of the river and the smell of the pine enveloped me fully, until everything became nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisling awakens, disorientated and in the middle of nowhere. She is badly injured, but there is no help near by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elves in the next chapter, I promise ;) Thrandy action soon

I gradually came to, but couldn’t bear to try to move, or even open my eyes. ‘I should be dead’, was all I could think, ‘ I died! I felt it! I had died. Why am I not dead?’ I felt different. Something was different. I soon realised that I could no longer hear the furious gushing of the river…or smell the potent aroma of pine. Then I remembered. I had fallen, fallen of the edge and plunged in the icy water. I remembered the feeling of water slowly filling the car, and then my lungs. Drowning me. My ears ringing. Head pounding. My lungs had begun to burn as I opened my mouth to breathe the air that wasn’t there.  
As I fully came to, I once again felt the crippling pain in every part of my body. In my arms, and neck. In my head, and back. In my torso, and legs. I tried to focus on something else; anything else, but there was nothing. No indication of life around me. No sounds, no smells. I could only feel what I thought must be soft grass beneath me. I couldn’t understand what was happening, I should be in my car at the bottom of a river. Why was I lying out here? I felt the warmth of the sun, beating down on me, pleasantly heating my skin up, providing some small comfort.  
I cracked an eye open but was only greeted by a blinding white light, until my eye adjusted. Once I could see properly, I opened the other and waited. The light was so bright that tears started forming in the corners of my eyes and I had to squint. When my vision cleared, I started to examine what was around me; it was this that caused the feelings of panic to resurface. No river, no mountain, and no pine trees. I seemed to be, however, deep inside some sort of leafy forest. I didn’t recognise anything; the plants looked foreign, and I had never seen trees so huge. I was laying in the middle of a little clearing, next to a small, crystal clear pond. At the edge of the clearing, one of the huge trees had been uprooted and lay on its side. Patches of sunlight streamed down through the thick canopy above me, gleaming off the grass. In any other situation, I would stop to admire the sheer beauty of this place, but it was as though the pain fogged up my eyes. A slight breeze was in the air, carrying the birdsong with it and shifting strands of my hair, tickling my face. As I went to raise my hand to brush the strands from my face, I realised it was clutched around something. My bag! Thank god, maybe I could call someone for help! I groaned inwardly as I remembered it isn’t in my bag; I’d thrown it onto the back seat, dammit. No one would be able to find me, oh god, I was completely alone. I was utterly isolated; I could feel the loneliness crushing down on me, suffocating me. I started hyperventilating, reliving the feeling of struggling for breath in the river. As my body started shuddering, I tried to calm down, focusing on the sound of the birds in the trees around me. As my breathing slowed, and my heart had stopped hammering in my chest, I tried to move my head to look around. It was painful, but I could tell nothing was broken. It was light, wherever I was, probably around midday. Hadn’t I gone out around 9 pm? Jesus, how long had I been out for?! And still nobody had found me. Maybe I’d blindly crawled my way into this strange forest? No, no I didn’t remember moving anywhere; and besides, with these injuries no way could I have made it out of the river and into the middle of a huge forest. I had gaping wounds all over my body, and couldn’t see a bloody trail anywhere. Then, had someone else moved me? If so, where were they? I must’ve laid there for another hour or so, drifting from theory to incredulous theory, until I surmised that no one was coming for me, and it was very unlikely that anyone would just happen upon me in a forest this big. I had to find my own way out of this.  
I started panicking, considering just bleeding out here, I mean, the chances I would survive this were very slim judging by how much blood I was losing. My breathing became desperate and shallow. The blood I had lost had dried on my clothes and skin but new, fresh blood was still flowing over the top of it. My mind flashed back to my parents’ crash, I had been in the same situation. Thinking about this, I rediscovered my determination to survive; I had survived that car crash, and I was damn well gonna survive this one. I couldn’t abandon Aengus. My doctors training kicked in as I started thinking about ways to stop my bleeding, but first I had to check for broken bones. I tried moving each of my limbs, and whilst it was incredibly painful, I couldn’t feel any broken bones. In some odd way I even felt stronger, like I could withstand more. I slowly sat up, but stopped for a moment as dizziness and nausea swept over me. I must have a concussion, I thought to myself; my head was killing me. I remembered hitting my head on something; the window was it? I felt all over my face but couldn’t find any fresh blood, luckily. I got to work, shrugging off my coat and ripping the edges of my blood stained dress to tightly wrap the scraps around my wounds to stop the bleeding. I sat there for a while, until the dizziness left, and began to stand up. I immediately lurched forwards and emptied the contents of my stomach over the forest floor. Oh man, I should really to sit down again.  
I made my way over to the large, moss-covered tree, which had, at some point, fallen over, and sat down on top of it. I rested my bag against the tree and just sat there, staring into space whilst appreciating the feeling of the sun once again warming my skin. After a few minutes I could feel my eyes growing heavier and soon they drifted shut. I knew it was bad to close my eyes – I had to try and stay awake, but I just couldn’t keep them open any longer, so I lay down and drifted off, mumbling incoherent thoughts to myself.


	4. Chapter 4

It was dark when I woke. I could still hear the wind whistling through the trees, but the bird song no longer accompanied this. I rubbed my groggy eyes, trying to wake myself up faster. “Well,” I said to myself, “at least I didn't drift off into a deathly slumber”. Oh, dear. Talking to yourself…isn't that the first sign of madness.  
I took a moment to look around me. Now that it was dark, my surroundings had completely transformed. What was once a beautiful, sunny forest now seemed like an eerie, ghostly quiet maze. The silhouettes of the trees, whose branches stuck out as if reaching for you, jutted out at odd angles. The pond in the centre now looked freezing cold and murky. The canopy hung over you, as if trapping you from the outside world, starving you of the fresh open air. Never before had I felt so trapped, like the forest was closing in on me; I could feel the fear working its way into my veins as I slid off the tree trunk, and to the ground. I curled up, clutching my bag, and tried to calm myself. I closed my eyes, imagining I was back home, with Aengus just next door, making us tea. The cold started seeping into my bones, and I decided to stay in this safe position until it grew light again. It appeared to be early morning, so it shouldn't be too long until I can actually see what is around me.  
I didn't spend too long waiting on the forest floor, because it had gotten so cold in the night I'd gone to retrieve my blood soaked coat to wrap myself up warm. It was uncomfortable, the bloody fabric sticking to my skin, but it did return some warmth to my weak body. By now, my head was pounding and I was finding it hard to easily focus on anything; it had been a while since I'd eaten or had anything to drink, and, due to the amount of blood I'd lost, I really needed some nourishment. I was so thirsty, I was tempted to drink from the pond, and so I hobbled over to take a look at it. As I peered into the murky depths, I was surprised by the reflection I saw looking back at me - I hardly recognised myself. My hair seemed lighter, I could no longer see my roots; my eyes were a brighter blue; and my lips looked dark and fuller. My skin, underneath all the dirt and blood, was clearer, almost porcelain. I had completely transformed. All my attractive features had intensified, and the uglier ones had gone. Oh shit! What if my tattoos…what if they've gone! I checked all over my body: my thighs, tummy, shoulders and I even twisted to see the back of my neck, but sure enough they were still there. Thank god, I sighed, they all meant so much to me; my mom had had lots of input when I designed them, so I loved each one dearly. But perhaps…my scar…? My eyes roamed my neck, silently hoping it had gone, but no. There it was, as bright as day. The faint yet unmissable red line stretching down the length of my neck. I let out a disappointed sigh, but it caught in my throat as I heard the distinct sound of branches snapping in the distance. My head shot up. I hurried, as best as I could, over to the tree and snatched up my bag. I didn't want to stick around and find out what that was…a wolf, maybe? Did they even have wolves in Ireland? That was, if I'm still even in Ireland. I quickly decided to just keep heading in one direction so that I could hopefully find my way out of this maze-like forest. I had just turned around to decide which way I would go, when I saw a group of…god knows what, in front of me, and they had most definitely noticed me. Oh shit.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(LEGOLAS POV)

We had been tracking the cluster of giant spiders for a few hours now, and were closing in. Judging by the destruction they had left behind, there must be quite a few of them, but not so many that the six of us couldn't handle it. My father had ordered a small group of his best soldiers and I to clear the spiders' nest, but they had fled when we attacked. Unfortunately a lot of them had managed to escape, and were heading straight for the halls of our Woodland realm. We need to cut them off before they reach the palace, or else they could wreak havoc.  
“My Prince,” said Calanon, the captain of the guard and my old friend, “it seems the filth are heading straight for that small clearing further ahead”. “Thank you, Calanon. It seems we are not too far away from them now. They are slow; we will be able to reach them and kill them before any damage can be done. Ready the men, we shall go this way”, I replied. Calanon was my best soldier, and a very dear friend. We had grown up together, learning to fight alongside each other.  
Our group set off, leaping from tree to tree, keeping a keen eye on the ground below us, searching for the spiders. It wasn't long until we reached the clearing, and sure enough the spiders were there. But, what was going on? A few of the spiders seemed to be fighting against something? It was quite small, whatever it was, and wielding a…what? Was that a stick? Who in this realm would dare face such beasts armed only with a stick? I ordered the soldiers to kill the other spiders, while I signalled for Calanon and myself to dispatch the spiders that were crowding around this strange human. It was a female, judging by the high-pitched voice shouting some incomprehensible yet vile sounding words at the spiders. Did she know they couldn't reply? She had the strangest voice; she spoke with an odd type of accent, the likes of which I had never before heard. It sounded kind of slurred, as if the words were tumbling into each other as they left her mouth. It was extremely perplexing.  
Before we could reach the spiders, one of them pounced upon this girl, and she let out a deafening screech, followed by choked sobs. Calanon and I jumped into action and quickly killed the spiders that had been tormenting the girl. We gave each other a sideways glance, unsure if this was some kind of trap, and wondering what this small woman was doing in the forest of King Thranduil. Neither of us had expected to find someone in our forest, least of all a human woman. The spider must have injured her somehow, because she was now laying unconscious on the floor, on top of a bag. We walked towards the woman and inspected her, deciding what to do. One of the men suggested just killing her and dumping her body, which could possibly be a kinder fate than what my father, King Thranduil, might do with her; however, for some reason I couldn't bring myself to allow this. I went to grab what I presumed was her bag from underneath her, while I ordered Calanon to pick up the woman and carry her back to the Woodland realm. He gave me a slight look of annoyance, which I let slip since I knew his respect for me was absolute, but nevertheless, I told him to get on with it. He leant over her still body and picked her up in his arms. The girl made a slight grunt of discomfort, which was actually quite amusing.  
“What is she?”, asked Calanon, who looked captivated by her beauty. I had to admit, the woman was extremely attractive, despite the dirt and…was that blood? Yes, a lot of blood. “Is she injured?” I asked Calanon, trying to sound nonchalant and unaffected by this human. He gave her a once over, “yeah, pretty badly. I think that spider just missed her though; this blood looks older. She's got wounds all over her body, what the hell happened to her?”, he said. I gave him a disapproving look about his language, but this soon turned into worry. I turned to the rest of the men and suggested we should get back to the Elvenking's halls as quickly as possible, before it got dark, and was met with murmurs of approval.  
Calanon sped up to me as the girl's eyes fluttered open just as we got out of the forest and were heading towards to the doors of the Woodland realm. I noticed a look of panic fill her eyes but she appeared to weak to move. My face remained stoic, masking the sympathy I felt for this girl. Nonetheless, she had been trespassing, and certainly couldn't be trusted; we would have to leave her in the dungeons until my father decided to interrogate her, which would probably be a few days. I hoped she would last that long, as prisoners were not given the luxury of healers, and this woman certainly needed one. She had clearly attempted to stop her bleeding, but she either had no medical knowledge, or was just too weak to properly dress her wounds.  
As we walked through the kingdom I noticed many of the people stopping to stare at our company. This wasn't unusual, however, what was unusual was the fact that, rather that staring at me, they were staring at the crumpled form of the girl. Honestly, I could understand why; this girl's appearance origins were mysterious - she had round ears, like humans, however she also had the beauty of an elleth, making it clear that she hadn't come from a pitiful dwelling such as Laketown. I took the woman from Calanon, who then went about his business, and carried her down the trail to the dungeons. She was unsurprisingly light; she had a short stature and was quite slim, and so it wasn't too difficult to carry her all the way. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, and most likely thought she was dreaming. I was concerned about leaving her in a prison cell when she was so weak and injured, but she wasn't going to get any special treatment; my father may be cruel, but he was a fair King and treated everyone equally badly.  
The keeper of the keys let me into the cell and I dropped the woman onto the stone seat, gave her a once over, and hurried off, still carrying her strange bag; I hadn't expected to take so long clearing the forest of those spiders and still had to report back to King Thranduil. Calanon was probably already there, waiting for me. I was quite worried about how my father would take the news about the woman. I just hoped he wouldn't have her executed; she seemed to be quite innocent, and in need of our help. The Elvenking would most likely want the girl to be brought before him so that he could inspect her himself; my father appreciates beautiful things, but I know he doesn’t bother to look beyond the outer appearance. Hopefully this girl would be an exception, hopefully he would see the beauty that lay underneath the dirt and blood, but I doubted it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisling is brought before Thranduil to decide her fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some Thrandy aha

(LEGOLAS POV)

I soon reached the huge, ornate doors that lead to the throne room, and saw Calanon waiting outside for me. “Prince Legolas”, he said in respectful acknowledgement as I approached him. I smirked to myself as I noticed the nervous anticipation in his eyes; we both knew that the, most likely moody, King Thranduil was sitting just behind those doors, and we were about to be bearers of bad news. If there was one thing he detested as much as dwarves, it was trespassers. I knew we were probably going to bear the brunt of his furious temper, but I still feared what he would do to this weak, even harmless, woman. He would likely be suspicious of her strange appearance, but hopefully his curiosity would win over and he wouldn’t just outright kill her. I looked up to the doors, which loomed over us, and lead the way through them and into the throne room.

King Thranduil sat, perched gracefully on the edge of his throne, leaning back looking as relaxed and lethargic as one can. However, I could tell that this was not the case. The familiar crease between his thick brows was one of the few subtle clues that he was indeed in a bad mood. I would have to negotiate the topic of the trespasser carefully. He was clad in his usual silver-grey robes, which were fastened with a large diamond brooch. His multitude of rings adorned his fingers and glinted in the light of the sun. It was nearing summertime, and so he wore his crown of twigs, and small flowers and greenery. He made for quite an imposing yet breathtakingly handsome figure, and I could tell why the people were enraptured with him. He was the perfect example of a Sindar elf, not like the more common, lowly Silvan elves. His eyes bored into me as we entered, and he positively radiated irritation. There was a group of noblemen surrounding the bottom of his throne, and it appeared we had interrupted a council meeting. Oops. My father rose out of his throne slowly, and sauntered down the carved wooden steps, heading for me. The throne had been made from the most durable, yet elegant wood in the Mirkwood, and looked incredibly elegant, with its twisting branches winding up the steps to the throne itself. Antlers adorned the top of the throne, almost threateningly, and gave the appearance that, yes; this certainly was the infamous throne of the great Elvenking. The various council members clustered around him, each arguing and trying to have their say, which I guess is the reason for his annoyed look. Elves were known to be tall, but my father towered over everyone, which made all the elleths swoon and all the elves cower, trying not to anger him. King Thranduil is very easily angered.

He was clad in his silver-grey robes, and the silk shone in the light as he brushed past the elven council and headed straight towards Calanon and myself. I saw his eyes soften slightly when he looked at me, but his face remained stoic. I’d learnt over the years that my father was incredibly skilful at hiding his feelings to others, but I could always tell what he was truly feeling; I guess it was a father-son bond thing. Realising that he was silently pleading to be freed from yet another dull, repetitive council meeting, I loudly announced that we had urgent information that needed to be passed on to the King, in private. With that, the King ordered the council to leave, and after much grumbling and complaining, they left us. Only King Thranduil, Calanon, a few guards and I remained in the room.

He excused the guards with a mere twitch of his fingers and then turned his now steely gaze to me. “You’re late, Legolas. Why is this? Was there a problem? Are you unable to deal with a few errant spiders”, he said quietly, his voice tinged with mild amusement at that last comment. “I was forced to sit through that stupid council meeting because you were so late”. I rolled my eyes, mentally; he was so dramatic. In the corner of my eye I saw Calanon step forward. “There was a problem, my King, but it wasn’t that exactly”, he replied. King Thranduil raised a thick eyebrow, looking unconvinced that we had actually had a problem, and slowly turned his hardened eyes to Calanon. 

“Well, do tell, Captain”, he sneered, inviting Calanon to explain, seemingly doubtful that our excuse would ‘excuse’ our tardiness. “Well…”, Calanon continued, ignoring my father’s rudeness, “we were tracking the spiders, as quite a few of them managed to escape.” My father rolled his eyes at this, but Calanon continued, “We soon caught up with them at the clearing near our borders”. Thranduil stood still, realising that the spiders escaping briefly wasn’t the problem we were referring to. He waited, less than patiently, for the captain of the guard to get to the point. Calanon took Thranduil’s silence as permission to continue, and spoke, quieter, not wanting to unleash the King’s anger upon him: “We…um, well, We found, a uh…” 

Again, Thranduil raised an eyebrow, “yes”, he said, “you found a what…?”

“We found a human…thing, trespassing in our forest”, I interrupted, feeling bad for my friend, who had started to stutter. “Go on”, said the King, looking over my head, eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. Before I could continue, he aimed his gaze at me and pressed further, “What have you done with this man? Why do you call him a ‘thing’?”. If looks could kill, this whole kingdom would be dead, so I spoke quickly, appeasing my father’s impatience, “Um, well, the human was a woman. The spiders had trapped her and were trying to attack her, but she used a, um… a stick to beat their legs away”, I remembered in amusement. Thranduil’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Foolish humans, he thought. “Where is she now? Have you disposed of her?” he questioned. “No”, I replied, annoyed that he spoke of her in this way, “she was badly injured, very weak, and bleeding everywhere. It looked like she had been attacked before the spiders found her. She was covered in blood and dirt, drifting in and out of consciousness. I left her in a prison cell; I think we should try to help her”.

“And why, dear son, would I do that. I have no patience for those who trespass on my land. She should have stayed away, perhaps then she would have survived”. 

“Father, no! There is something about her! Something different. Something special. I can feel it. I said she is human, but I do not believe it. She is beautiful. Stunning. Far too pretty to have come from a human settlement like Laketown. I imagine when she is healthy, her beauty would rival that of an elleth; but her ears…they are rounded, she cannot be an elf. I confess, I have no idea what she is, father. But we would be fools to get rid of her”, I said, determined to help this odd woman. I still had her bag, hidden inside my own satchel, but I would not give it to my father, because he would destroy it. I’d decided I would look through it myself, and return it to her if it seemed harmless. As far as I was concerned, she was innocent. She probably didn’t even realise she had entered our territory.

Something flashed behind my father’s eyes. Yes, curiosity. He was curious. Perhaps the girl had a chance after all. During my speech, Thranduil had hunched towards me, scrutinising my face, searching for any hint of a lie, but he found nothing. When I was done, he straightened up and spoke a few simple words. Words that would decide the girl’s fate.

“Bring her to me”.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

(AT THE SAME TIME)

I landed, hard, on the ground. The impact jolted me awake, scaring away any hope I had of rest. The ground beneath me was cold, hard stone, but surprisingly clean. In front of me was the barred door to this room; was I in a prison cell? Oh my God, what the hell was going on? Where on earth could I be that still had prison cells like this?! Something about this place felt oddly familiar; the stone floors, the carved door, the rough walls of rock. And then I thought back to the men that had saved me. The one with the blonde hair… I knew him from somewhere. My eyes grew wide; he was the spitting image of Legolas - that elf-dude from that film, ‘The Hobbit’! What the fuck, that is so weird. Maybe I’m just dreaming, I could be in a coma, surely? I cannot seriously be in Middle Earth. How would that even happen? It’s not even a real place! I started to freak out, panicking, breathing heavily. I huddled into the corner of the dark room, shivering in the cold. The only light came from the halls outside my cell, and was cast through the door, but I kept towards the back wall, hoping that maybe they’d forget I’m here if I kept myself hidden. 

Of course, I had no such luck. After about half an hour, one of the men from the forest came for me. No…not a man… an elf! Oh my God, I thought, as I caught sight of his pointed ears. This dude actually has pointy ears! What the heck. I recognised his reddish-brown hair, which reached down just below his shoulders, and had delicate plaits running the length of it. His eyes were a dark chocolate brown, matching his hair, and they adopted a look of pity as he took in my crumpled form. He had been gentle when he carried me all the way out of the forest, trying his best not to aggravate my wounds, whispering kind words of encouragement to me when nobody had been listening. I felt I could trust him, after all, he wouldn’t have cared for me like that if he planned on hurting me later, would he?

He took a large, chunky key out of his pocket, unlocked the cell door, and slowly came over to my cowering body. He lifted me up from my position on the floor, and placed me on my feet. He produced a pair of handcuffs, which I hadn’t noticed before, and was apologising whole-heartedly. Wait a minute…handcuffs! Before I could shimmy away from them, the elf-man-thing had clasped them around my wrists behind my back, with a resounding click. Jesus, I could see no way of getting out of this one. I was truly in a pickle.

Due to my injuries, I could only walk at a slow pace, and had to stop quite often as I was still losing blood and growing quite light-headed. The nice elf-man seemed to understand and accommodate this, not like the blonde elf that had pretty much thrown me into the cell, and stolen my bag I would like to add! We made our way up, along twisting pathways and past some ornately carved decorations. This place was large and cavernous, but absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. I was beginning to panic as we walked on for longer, dreading my fate, and I think the man could sense this. He started talking to me, clearly trying to calm my nerves. “My name is Calanon”, he started; “I am the Captain of the Elven guard. The King has requested your presence. I believe he wishes to ask you some questions”, he said, almost proudly. I could hardly believe my ears; I had been right. They were elves. Wow, this was just too crazy. Surely it is some kind of joke? 

“Well?” he said, expectantly, “what is your name?” he asked. I just stared at him; my face probably looked as though I was looking at someone who had just grown three heads. I just couldn’t wrap my brain around all of this; it just wasn’t possible. After a long silence, and me just staring, the man, Calanon, gave me a sheepish look and nudged me to resume walking. We rounded a corner and came upon a large set of ornate doors.

The doors were made out of a gorgeous wood, almost like oak. Branches, vines and leaves had been skilfully carven into the wood, giving the doors a sophisticated elegance. It was craftsmanship unlike anything I had ever seen before. My inner artist was coming to the surface. I saw the elf, Calanon, reach out for the curved handles, but pause just before he touched them. He turned to me, hand still close to the handles, and spoke the words that shot fear straight into my heart: “I’m sorry for what is about to happen”. I stood there, speechless, eyes wide, as he grasped the handles and pushed the huge doors open with a groan.

The room was enormous, the floors polished, and the same carvings adorned everything. Right ahead of me, I saw the blonde elf. He was looking at me, his eyes filled to the brim with pity, just like Calanon. His face was incredibly beautiful; not manly and roguishly handsome like Calanon, but elegant and youthful. Good genes, I tutted. This elf was of a similar height to Calanon, and lowered his head to look me in the eyes, as I approached. “My name is Legolas, Prince of the Woodland realm, and you are in the presence of the great ruler of Mirkwood, King Thranduil”. Slightly quieter he whispered, “I would advise you to bow”. My eyes widened upon learning his name. Legolas. Prince Legolas. The same one from ‘The Hobbit’. Oh my, I am in Mirkwood! This is actually the Woodland realm! I tried to calm myself, ordering my inner fan girl to settle down, because I was in a very serious situation. I was so busy trying to control my fangirling that I didn’t really hear the latter part of what Legolas said. My mind had kind of blanked when I heard his name. I didn’t realise what was happening until I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. I turned my head to look, and was stunned by what I saw.

Gliding down the steps of a stunning throne, striding straight towards me was none other than King Thranduil himself, and he looked seriously pissed. Oh, fuck. My stomach started doing flips. The King reached me quickly and hissed, “Kneel”. A look of confusion crossed my face and he simply said, “I am your King, and you will show respect in my presence. Bow”. My temper flared. My eyes narrowed to match his and he gave me a look of surprise. “You are not my King. And I will not bow”. Nice one, Ash; that was clearly stupid to say, as I noticed Legolas cringe beside me. 

Calanon and Legolas were tall, but the Elvenking literally towered over me; the top of my head must’ve only reached his chest. At me reply, King Thranduil’s hand shot out, grasping me round the neck. I winced in pain as his warm fingers pressed into my bruised neck. I was finding it hard to breathe, and my vision started swimming, but I fixed him with my steely glare, refusing to cave in. We stayed like this for a few minutes, his hand gradually tightening, and just as I began to feel faint, he removed his hand from its choking hold on my neck. I saw Legolas’ eyes widen when he saw my neck, probably looking at the bigger bruises that the King had likely left. As King Thranduil drew back his hand, I saw it was coated in blood…my blood. “Shit”, I exclaimed out loud, as we all looked it the hand in surprise. Thranduil’s head shot up from his bloody hand, in surprise at hearing me speak, and watched me as I pressed one of my makeshift bandages to the reopened wound on my neck. He straightened up, collecting himself, reapplying his stoic façade, but he wasn’t fooling me.

“Who are you”, he asked, cleaning his hand on a cloth, “and where do you come from, woman?” I lifted my gaze up into his eyes and replied, “Aisling. My name is Aisling Blake, and I’m from…” I paused. He would have no idea what Ireland is; it didn’t exist in Middle Earth. He sensed my hesitation and angrily growled, “Tell me. Where do you come from? What are you?” I rolled my eyes, which seemed to annoy him, much to my amusement. Fine, I thought, you want the truth, I’ll give you the truth, and I hope it bamboozles you. “Ireland”, I said straightforwardly, noticing the confusion on the faces of Thranduil and Legolas, “I’m from Cork, in Ireland”.  
“Oh really? I don’t believe you. What are you hiding? Were you sent here to spy? You have nothing to fear. Tell me what I want to know, and I shall set you free”. Oh is that so, King Thrandy, I thought. I remember this speech from the film, and I’m pretty sure it ended in a dead captive. I wasn’t going to let him lull me into a false sense of security. I didn’t reply, and he gave no inclination that he was going to continue, so we stood there, face to face, locked in an intense staring competition. This was a bad idea though, as it gave me time to study him. I’d always quite fancied King Thranduil; what can I say, he was terribly attractive in the movies, and looked identical in ‘real life’. His long, smooth, blonde hair reflected the light, and each strand shined when he moved his head. He wore the crown of twigs, just like Tolkien had described, however it was covered in small leaves and dainty flowers rather than the autumnal berries. I’d always loved his thick, black eyebrows, which contrasted delightfully with his light hair, and created the image of an intimidating, deadly Elvenking; however, being this close to him, I didn’t feel an ounce of fear, just lust. Oh dear stop it woman, I scolded myself. I could be close to execution, and all I can think about is mounting King Thranduil on that huge throne over there. I felt a familiar throbbing between my legs and tried to subtly press them together. It seemed the King noticed though, as his eyes flicked down to my legs as a smirk formed on his face. His eyes returned to my blushing face, but I didn’t miss the way his eyes darkly lingered on my generous cleavage.

 

(THRANDUIL POV)

I was perplexed by this strange girl in front of me. She claimed to come from a land called Ireland. I was inclined to think she was lying, as no place existed; however I could see the honesty written across her face, clear as day. She was a disgustingly filthy thing, covered in mud and grit, but there were hints of beauty there. She had a small, dainty little nose, and full lips. Her eyes, a bright blue, were piercing and mesmerising. My eyes lingered on her lips, but I pulled my eyes away before she could notice. I felt disgusted; she was a filthy human. A human! And I was lusting after her!

We became locked in an intense stare, neither one of us wanting to look away first. I noticed her squeeze her legs together, as if trying to relieve an itch; and then I realised what she was doing and a sly smirk formed on my face. A pleasant blush formed, starting at her full breasts, travelling up to her cheeks. It was delightful, but my face soon became tainted with a frown; I should not be feeling such things towards this human. But she wasn’t human…she couldn’t be? I didn’t know what to think, which unnerved me. The girl started to tremble, her body clearly exhausted. Her legs looked wobbly, tiring from the effort of holding her weak body upright. Before I could think another thought, the woman collapsed at my feet. Legolas rushed to pick her up as I just stood there glaring in annoyance.

“Take her back to her cell”, I growled, “She will stay there until I say otherwise. No visitors. Get a serving girl to bring her meals each day, but no one else shall have any contact with her, do you understand?” 

Legolas and Calanon bowed their heads in respect and understanding, and Calanon effortlessly picked up the girl and followed my son out of the throne room. I made my way back up the steps and sunk down into my throne, sighing heavily. It had been a long day, the council bugging me about finding someone to rule with, and now I was confused about what to do with this strange woman. I sat there, contemplating my options for hours, wondering what could be done.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Thranduil have a conversation about Aisling

There was a small, barred window high up in the rocky cell wall, and when I was returned to the prison cell, I peered through it and saw it had grown dark again outside. How long had I been gone for now? Aengus would be worried sick! To be honest, I was worried sick. I was beginning to think it would be impossible for me to get back home now, ya know, considering I’m in fricking Mirkwood?! This was an impossible situation, so obviously I had no clue what to do, apart from just stay here and see what would happen to me, but I really didn’t want this to be my life forever more, stuck in a place I don’t belong. It dawned on me then, that I would never see my brother again. We’d always been together; I mean, we were twins; we’d never been apart. And now… I couldn’t bear to think about it … about never seeing his stupid face again. Silent tears began to stream down my face as I curled up, uncomfortably, against the hard, far wall and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

I was awoken, for what felt like the millionth time that night, by the creaking of the heavy, metallic cell door, and the clang it made as it was shut and locked again. I slowly cracked open my eyes and could just make out a small (for an elf) figure in front of me. I looked behind me, to the window, and saw it was just about dawn. As my eyes had completely adjusted to the light, I looked back to the figure and realised it was a young-ish elven girl, dressed in a long, simple cotton dress, which appeared to be a dark green colour. She was carrying a wooden tray, which held a small plate of green vegetable-looking things, and a goblet of what I assumed was water.

The girl cautiously approached me, and I bristled and shuffled further back; but then I actually saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes. This made me soften, as I realised, with amusement, that she was probably more afraid of me, than I was of her. What a fucking cliché, I though, rolling my eyes. I smiled sheepishly as she came to a stop, a few metres in front of me. 

“It’s OK”, I said, in what I hoped was a reassuring voice. “I don’t bite”. I swore I saw her chuckle at that, and she replied, “Very well. I have brought you something to eat, at the request of the King”. I frowned at the mention of his name, but this seemed to displease the girl, and she stepped closer.

“You should be grateful. King Thranduil doesn’t usually treat criminals so nicely. I’ve been assigned to you, and will be bringing you your meals each day. Now, eat”, she said setting the tray down in front of me, “You must eat to keep your strength up. You’re clearly not very well. You’re bruised all over, and look white as a sheet”. I moved closer, into the light, and the elf gasped when she saw my bloody bandages. I saw she tried to quickly recompose herself, but I had seen the horror I her eyes. Shit, I must look awful.

“Okay, okay”, I replied, before she had the chance to comment on my bloodied appearance, “but I’m not a criminal. You’re King is just treating me like one. He’s a fool. A blind fool”

The girl frowned frustratedly at me again, and seemed put off by my hostility. “Then why were you trespassing in Mirkwood? I overheard Prince Legolas and the captain of the guard discussing you. You’ve certainly puzzled everyone”, she said, slightly more timidly. I sighed heavily; I wish everyone would stop calling me a trespasser. Why did it even matter? You can’t just own a whole bloody forest and just expect nobody to go in it! 

I reached for the tray sulkily and pulled it closer, as a pleased look passed over the girl’s face. I picked up each individual vegetable and inspected it, as if checking for poison, although I’d have no idea how to identify it. There was a collection of leaves on the plate, and what looked like broccoli and the like. I tried a bit of it, and it actually didn’t taste that bad, so I gobbled the rest down. I hadn’t noticed until I’d had the food in front of my face, but I was actually starving. I realised that I hadn’t actually eaten for a couple of days. My frantic eating seemed to amuse the girl, as a small smile had formed on her face as she watched me. After I had finished, I reached for the goblet and peered inside. I was filled to the brim with a deep red liquid, which smelled fruity.

“What is this?” I asked the girl. “It’s wine, from the cellar. It’s not the good stuff, but, I thought you might like something to drink; after all, it is quite hot during the summer”, she replied. I placed the goblet back on the tray in disgust, not touching a drop; since that car crash, I’d never touched alcohol again, and these circumstances were no exception. The girl gave me a questioning look, but I just stared back, unblinkingly, so she picked up the tray and turned to leave.

“Wait!” I exclaimed, and she span around again gracefully, “What do I call you?” I asked. The girl smiled at me and replied, “Freya, my name is Freya. I’m a maid in King Thranduil’s palace, but Legolas asked me to serve you dinner because he thought you’d be more comfortable with me, rather than one of those hulking great prison guards” she smirked. I huffed with laughter; Legolas was right, I sensed I might grow quite fond of this girl.

“What about you?” she asked. I smiled and told her my name. “I’m not exactly from around here”, I added.   
“Yes, I did notice that. You are quite different to anyone I’ve met before. You’re special”. She smiled at me affectionately, and then left before I had the chance to reply. And that was that; I was alone again.

 

* * * * * * * * * * *

I was making my way through the halls, heading for the dungeons. King Thranduil, or father if you will, had asked me to visit the prisoner girl. He proposed that if I visited her on my own in her cell, she might be more likely to trust me and give me information. I’d agreed simply because it would save her from my father’s less lenient interrogation style. At least she would be safe with me. I’d searched her bag and found nothing that seemed suspicious; there was only some strange pink shoes (which would certainly do her no good when jumping from tree to tree!), some incredibly good drawings, and a cloth-like pocket thing with silver round coins in, although it was no currency that I recognised. I’d taken these coins to show my father, as perhaps it held a clue as to where she came from, and I hoped she wouldn’t realise. Besides, it doesn’t matter; here, that foreign money is worthless. I felt slight sympathy for this woman; she clearly had nothing but the clothes on her back. She didn’t even have (real) money. No wonder she was in such a bad state. Perhaps she had been robbed? That could explain her injuries and lack of possessions.

I quickly found the keeper of the keys and waited, slightly impatiently, as he fumbled around with the keys. He eventually got the door to the lady’s cell open and I slid nimbly inside. I heard the door shut and lock behind me, but I kept my eyes cast downwards, focused on the poor woman in front of me. She looked dreadful. Her dress, or what was left of it, was stuck to her skin, still damp with blood. The flesh that could be seen beneath the blood was stained by dirt. Her hair looked limp, and no longer appeared blonde, like it was when we had found her, but a dusty brown. I could see her limbs trembling slightly, likely out of exhaustion, and I approached slowly. Her eyes shot up, searching out mine.

“It’s okay”, I said, “I mean you no harm. I would just like to talk with you. You see, you’ve caused quite a stir”; I chuckled. A faint smile graced her red, chapped lips, and a pained, if not apologetic look shone in her eyes. 

“Yea…”, she replied, wincing, “Sorry ‘bout that”. She was kind-hearted, indeed; she hadn’t done anything wrong as far as I was concerned. King Thranduil has taken to treating our friends as our enemies.

“No. It is I who should be apologising. You are in pain, but…I cannot get you help. I am forbidden by my father to do so”. She forced a smile on her face and assured me that she was alright, but her eyes betrayed her, and I could see from her expression that she was anything but alright. I wasn’t sure how much longer she would last.

“Was there something you came for?” she asked me. I removed her bag from its hiding place behind my back and I saw her eyes widen in surprise. “My bag!” she exclaimed, “but… how?”. “I picked it up when we found you. I kept it, thinking we would find out who you are from it, but not such luck. The contents seem harmless enough so, here” I said reaching out my hand with the bag. A huge, warm smile stretched across her face, reaching her eyes, and she stretched out her trembling fingers to grasp the handle. Her fingers brushed mine as she took the bag, and I was surprised not only by how freezing cold they were, but also by how soft they were. She was a delicate creature it seemed. Definitely not a hard labourer. She rummaged through the bag, probably checking everything was there; she seemed satisfied by it and didn’t check further, which I was relieved by.

“Your name. Did I hear it correctly? Leg-o-las?” she asked me, placing her bag against the wall behind her, not breaking eye contact.  
“Yes”, I replied nodding my head, “And you are Aisling, am I correct?”. She smiled and nodded. “Well then, Aisling. Please enlighten me; Ireland, I am not familiar with it”. She looked at me sheepishly. “It’s a place, in Europe. In a…a sort of planet… or world, if you like, called Earth”. What was she talking about? “Earth?” I asked, “Do you mean MIDDLE Earth?”  
“No, no, no. I mean Earth. Think of it as a separate world from here. I know this is gonna sound crazy, but, I um…I come from a different world to you. A world you don’t know of, and… in my world…you…you don’t exist either, not really”, she said. Ookayy, this woman is either lying to my face, very successfully, or actually believes what she is saying is the truth. I could usually tell when people were lying, but… she couldn’t be telling the truth, surely not? As crazy as it sounded, that would actually explain a lot; her strange appearance… the odd clothes she wore… the foreign coins, in that pouch thing… those shoes. In fact, taking all that evidence into account, it would seem a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

I looked at her, for a few minutes, right in the eye, trying to determine if she was mocking me, but she her eyes looked completely serious. “Riight”, I sighed, “I’m not sure what the King is going to say about this, but is there anything else you can tell us? What happened to you? Why are you here, and so badly injured?

She looked back at me; were those tears in her eyes? Something terrible must’ve happened to her. “Um, I was…all I can say is I was in an accident and got h, hurt q-quite badly. When I woke up, I was in the clearing. Please, you gotta believe this; I have no idea what happened. I’m as clueless as you are. All I know is I’ve been locked up like a criminal, I’m in a lot of pain, and I just want to go home and see my brother”. Her voice cracked as she said that last bit, and a silent tear slid down her dirty cheek, leaving a clear trail behind it. The skin looked creamy and clear, a complete contrast to the dirt covering the rest of her. Her blue eyes bore into mine, her tears making them glisten in the sunlight. She really was quite beautiful. I gave a look, which I hoped conveyed pity, bowed my head to her, muttered an apology and left to report back to my father. He would certainly be interested in what I had to say now. He was only ever interested in rare, precious things, but it was anyone’s guess if he’d be interested this woman, the state of her. I felt anger tremble throughout my body as I thought about the state she was in; how could my father deny her a healer, she was in so much pain, and despite trying to hide it, she wasn’t fooling anyone. All she wanted was to see her family; how could my father, of all people, deny her this?

 

(AISLING POV)

It was best, I thought, to keep it to myself that in Ireland, and the whole of Earth for that matter, these people were just characters in a book. That would most definitely make me look crazy. When I saw that it was the young Prince who came in, I won’t lie, I felt a little stab of disappointment. Yeah sure, Thranduil was an ass, but he’d always been my fave in the books, and in the movies (and real life it seemed) he was absolutely gorgeous. Still, I was grateful that Prince Legolas had brought me my bag back, after all, it’s not everyday that that happens. Oh god Ash, I thought, you’re in fricking Mirkwood, MIRKWOOD, and you still can’t keep it in your pants! Junk outside, or inside, my pants, either way, I hoped Thranduil would come for me soon, and would see that I meant not harm; I can’t spend another day in this confining cell, these four walls closing in on me, driving me mad. It wasn’t my wounds that would kill me, it was this cage. However, I would be a foolish doctor to deny that what Legolas told me didn’t worry me slightly; my wounds were surely infected, and if I didn’t receive medical attention soon, I would be in serious trouble. 

 

* * * * * * * * * * *

I stormed back through this labyrinth of corridors, making my way to the King’s private quarters. I was furious; how could my father sit back and relax in his grand chamber whilst such a precious girl was in a cell, suffering. This time he had gone too far. No longer could I see the just, kind King that used to grace this palace. With his age had come cynicism, and cruelness. I was going to have words with him.

I wound my way further into the heart of the palace, passing the training grounds where I saw Calanon training the new recruits for the guard. He looked up to me, I was on the balcony above the grounds, and gave a slight nod of his head, before he resume training. I continued on my way, passing very few people save a group of young, and very attractive, elleths, whom I cheekily greeted, and the usual guards. As I neared the King’s private halls, I stopped seeing people altogether; my father was a very private elf, and appreciated his privacy. I had stopped for a few minutes to *cough* *cough* flirt *cough* with a couple of the elleths, which had fortunately soothed my anger and put me in a better mood for meeting with my father.

Soon I arrived outside the enormous double doors that lead into the entrance hall of my father’s chambers. These doors weren’t as ornate as the ones to the throne room, but that is because those doors are meant to impress visitors to our realm. The only people that would see my father’s doors were the King himself, servants, guards, and myself. One of the guards outside the door knocked, as I waited for my father to respond. A deep “Come” came from inside, and the guards swung open the heavy doors. I stepped inside quietly and the doors were shut again. I stood in the entrance hall, a large room, with a shallow fountain in the middle. A few corridors stemmed off from this entrance, leading to an en-suite bedroom, a lounge area, a study, and a meeting room. My father stood at the entrance to the meeting room and he motioned with his head for me to follow him inside. 

We sat down at the large table in the centre of the room, my father at the head of the table. “Well”, he said, “What has the human woman told you?” he asked me, one of his thick eyebrows rising. “Not a lot”, I replied, as I saw his lips press into a thin line, “but Aisling did tell me as much as she could. I don’t think even she knows how this has happened, father. She mentioned a brother; she misses him a lot. Oh, and I found these strange coins in…on the floor of her cell”. 

“Aisling?” he interrupted me, taking the coins from me and inspecting them. He let out a low hum as he flipped the coins over in his large palm. “Yes, that is her name”, I replied, unimpressed with my father’s childish behaviour of trying to feign interest in Aisling, “What, did you think that if you refuse to call her by her name, you could justify mistreating her like this? Or forget about her entirely? You know this is wrong; she’s done nothing wrong! She’s in pain!”, I exclaimed raising my voice.

My father stood abruptly, shoving the table slightly and knocking his chair to the floor. He turned his back; shoulders hunched, body tense, and coolly whispered, “Tell me, Legolas, now. What else did she say to you.”

I narrowed my eyes at his back, but I repeated everything that Aisling had told me, despite that being very little, subtly leaving out the part where I gave her the bag back. I made sure to put particular emphasis on her poor condition, and he turned back around; I silently hoped my father’s sympathy could possibly win over and defrost his ice-cold heart. His face remained cold, but I noticed his eyes soften. But as quickly as they did, they hardened again. Mask back in place, he replied simply, “Right”, hand coming up to smooth out his furrowed brow. Confused I asked, “So what would you have me do with her then? Are we to help her?”. A frown tainted his face, and he answered, “No, I still do not trust her, injured or uninjured. I shall allow for you to send for one healer, but only to heal her most grievous wounds; I do not wish to waste too many of our resources on her. “But that will take ages to restore her to full health. You do not understand how bad her wounds are!”, I interrupted. He frowned at me, irritated and displeased, and continued: “But as for her freedom, she shall remain in that cell until I see fit. I shall not let some filthy human spy traipse around our halls!”, he said, practically shouting the last few sentences.

“AISLING!” I shouted, “Her name is Aisling!”. I knew I had crossed the line and suddenly lost all confidence; he might be my father, but he was still the King, and no one, I mean no one, was permitted to shout at him like that, no matter how warranted it had been. He looked down at me, anger burning in his eyes like a wildfire. He rose to his full height, and stalked towards me, hands balled into fists, but I stood my ground. He had no right to talk about her in that way. “Excuse me, Princeling?”, he growled sarcastically through his teeth, seething not-so-silently. I gulped and took a step back, but he just took another one forward, smirking arrogantly. He had me trapped in the corner of the room, but stopped and simply said “Get. Out. Now”, eerily calmly. I bowed quickly and fled the room. The guards opened the door as I reached them and let me out. I could tell from their white fearful faces that they had heard my father shouting; they would be foolish to not fear their King’s furious temper, a temper that he could not control, even in my presence. Poor Aisling, I thought; still, at least I could send for a healer to make her feel just a little bit better. I started off at a run, heading straight for the healer’s room. I knew exactly who to ask: Greta, the older but kindly elven healer, who had been appointed as my healer since my birth. She had been the healer of my father as well, and had found a soft spot in his heart. In knew Greta would treat the girl with gently kindness, as she did with everyone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover what Thranduil thinks of his newest prisoner. Hope you like!! (Sorry updates are slow, but I'm studying A-Levels at the moment, so I don't have loads of time)

I waited alone, in my cell, for what felt like a few hours. As I contemplated my fate, an older, grey-haired lady appeared at my cell door. As she stepped into my cell, I could see that her hair was plaited and piled high upon her head, and she was dressed in light, plain white robes. Small wrinkles spread across her face, showing her age. She introduced herself as Greta, and told me she’d been instructed to heal only my grievous wounds. This relieved me; perhaps I’d actually survive now that I had medical help. As she took in my slouched form, a look of sympathy flashed across her face, her eyes saddened and her brow furrowed. I found this displeasing; I’d never liked it when people pitied my, god knows I’d had enough of that after my parents died, but something about her kindly nature forced me to bite back my displeasure.

“You poor thing”, she said kindly, making her way over to me. “Here, let me clean you up a bit”, she said as she produced a bowl of clear, fresh water, and used a rag to clean off the mud from my skin. I caught the gentle aroma of rose as the water-soaked rag passed over my face. When she had done getting the thick layer off dirt and blood off, she broke the comfortable silence that had settled over us: “There, now that is better. You look much more presentable now. No wonder the King wanted to keep you down here. You’d surely give some of the royal court a scare if you were left to wander the palace in such a state” she said, chuckling. I smiled and quietly thanked her for efforts, and she set about cleansing my wounds. She reached into her medical bag and produced what I assumed to be their sort of antiseptic and started to spread it over my cuts and bruises. I winced as the potion stung my open wounds, and barely registered the sound of the old woman muttering a string of elven words. To my amazement, as I looked at the gaping cuts of my arms, I saw the skin sort of knit back together, and the bruising began to fade. When Greta stopped chanting the foreign words, most of my wounds had completely healed, and I was left with only a few bruises and red marks. My eyes widened in amazement. Imagine if we had such magic on Earth; how many lives we would be able to save. My mind boggled at the possibilities. 

A million thoughts raced through my head. What was that potion she rubbed over the cuts? What were those words she was whispering? Could it heal fatal wounds, or just cuts like mine? Could anyone perform this magic? The doctor in me reared its curious head, but all I could get out of my mouth was “Wow”. Mirth lit up in her eyes as she took in my new appearance, now that I was practically back now normal. “Well, my dear, now you’re very beautiful now that you’re all cleaned up. Most definitely ready for a meeting with the King”. “What?!” I screeched, surprising Greta, “I have to see the bloody King again! But he wants me dead!”. Greta’s eyes widened in shock, “Young lady! Do not say such things! King Thranduil is most gracious and kind when he wants to be. I should know; I practically raised him”. “What!” I exclaimed again, “But he’s cruel and unfair! I’ve done nothing wrong and yet I’m still caged up like an animal! I’m going mad down here!”. She frowned at me and continued to scold. “It is true. The King does not trust easily. But listen now, my dear, he has every reason to be. There is true sadness that taints his heart. Ever since his wife left after having Legolas, he has closed himself off. But…since meeting you, I sense he has softened”. This comment puzzled me; the only few times I had met this Thranduil guy he had seemed to hate my guts. This old woman was clearly one breadstick short of a bunch. The possibility of him finding me attractive sent butterflies in my stomach, I mean, he was friggin’ Thranduil for heck’s sake! I’d crushed on him since I’d first seen him in that film, The Hobbit.  
When she was satisfied with my health, she began to pack her bag again and leave. Too curious for my own good, I asked what she meant by her earlier words. She gave me a long look, but finally replied; “Listen to me dear; our King is not as cruel as he would have you believe. His heart is warm and loving. It’s just getting past his cold exterior that is the tricky bit. If you reach his heart, he is everything you could ever need. I raised him well, if I do say so myself”, she smiled, giving me a wink. And with that, she left, the door ominously clanging shut behind her. My mind was swimming in thought even more now, but Thranduil was the only thing occupying them. So, his wife had left? I wonder why? It’s not exactly the sort of thing you can just ask…is it? He seemed to want to know all about me…it’s only fair that he gives me the same courtesy. I wondered how soon it would be until I saw him again. I so desperately wanted to see him. My head growing heavy, I settled down to one side of the cell, close to the door so I could bask in the light flooding in from the corridor. My eyes slipped shut, and my thoughts cleared as I drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

I found it hard to concentrate all through my meetings that day. Currently, I was in a particularly tedious meeting where, once again, the blasted council were trying to convince me to take a new wife. Apparently they were of the opinion that it would give our kingdom a good opportunity to ally with another. As if we even needed that; we had everything we could possibly need to take care of ourselves here, why would I need to ally? I rolled my eyes, and let out a loud, strained sigh. A few of the council member shifted in their seats, noticing how tired I was getting of this repeated conversation. However, the completely oblivious speaker continued to insist that a queen would be beneficial to our kingdom. My mind drifted to the girl that was currently locked away in my dungeons. ‘Aisling’, I scolded myself, ‘Her name is Ailsing. It would be a good idea to use it, unless you want to incur her fiery wrath again’. I huffed amusedly to myself; why should I need to worry about her temper? She was of no threat to me. No, it wasn’t that; it was that I didn’t want to upset her further. This was an alien feeling, why do I suddenly care for this girl…Aisling? 

A timid cough broke me from my reverie, and the whole council was looking at me, expectantly, fearful expressions on their tired old faces. I controlled my temper, too tired for an argument, and lowly said, “No. For the last time, no. I have no interest in a wife. Not now. It is unnecessary”. The council averted their gaze from my steely stare, all apart from the head speaker. He looked into my eyes and said, “But my Lord, you must remarry, Ilmadia left a long time ago. It is time now to take a new wife”. At the mention of my past wife my temper rose, and I narrowed my eyes at the over-confident council member. How dare this man speak her name? And to his King no less. I had forbidden anyone from talking of her. She was a fraud…a deserter…she deserved no mention.  
“Get. Out. NOW!”, I shouted. Terror swept over the faces of the council members, and the obnoxious little council member went white as a sheet. They all rushed out of the throne room, grumbling to each other in hushed voices, not wanting to anger me further. I sighed wearily and sunk into my seat. Once again, Aisling drifted into my thoughts. Right, I said to myself, that is it. I’m going to see her. Maybe if I talk to her more I’ll dampen my curiosity and be able to get her out of my head. If I just forget about her, I can wholeheartedly focus on my kingdom

As I walked down towards to dungeons, I slipped my hand into the hidden pocket in my robe. I fingered the oddly shaped coins in my pocket, turning them over in my palm. Aisling was certainly a curious creature. I was so lost I thought, that I only noticed I had reached the cells when the keeper of the keys approached me. “My Lord”, he spoke, lowly bowing, “How can I be of service?”. 

“I do not wish to enter a cell, I just wish to see a prisoner; you are dismissed for the night”, I replied. I could see confusion in his eyes, but he left without a question. I quickly and quietly made my way to the furthest cell. I’d made sure the girl was kept far down, away from the disgusting prisoners that filled my cells. I tried to be as silent as I could (which wasn’t hard considering I’m an elf) because Aisling was most likely sleeping at this late hour. The torches flickered as I swept past them, and cast shadows over the stone passageway.

I neared her cell and peered inside. It was pitch black, but I easily scanned the small room. And then I saw her. She lay stretched out close to the cell door. The light from the corridor flooded her cell and cast shadows over her sleeping form, highlighting the deliciously soft curves of her hips. The shadows emphasised her cheekbones, and lit up her porcelain skin. She certainly was a sight to behold. From under her unusually, but not unpleasantly, short dress, I made out several small, strange markings that littered her skin. Black patterns swirled over her skin following the soft contours of her body. They were so very beautiful, but I had never seen anything like them before. I followed the delicate pattern as it crawled its way around her thigh and disappeared underneath her skirt. My eyes followed their trail, which left me desiring to see the rest. She was certainly a sexual being. The light reflected off her bright blonde curls, contrasting the dark red of her lips. I was awestruck - she was a sight to behold. I dare say her beauty matched that of even Lady Galadriel. Never had I seen such a beautiful creature. Especially one that was not an elf. Was it even possible for a human to be this beautiful? I’d always thought of them as disgusting, smelly, dirty creatures, but Aisling...Aisling was different. I could smell the scent of rose, which we often used to scent our bath water, waft over to me. Clearly Greta had taken pity on the girl and cleaned her up properly. Despite her going against my strict orders to only heal the girl, I was secretly glad for the kindness Greta must have shown Aisling. Every inch of her visible skin was clean and fresh looking – the complete opposite to how I had first seen her. Clearly Legolas had been right about her; I should not have been so hasty in judging this woman. I realised then, in sadness, how cold my heart had grown over the years. Perhaps this young woman could be my saviour. I smiled in fondness as I took in her sleeping form, and sighed gently. The darkness inside me took over once more; I had spent years building up my inner walls to protect myself for further pain, and here this wench is, breaking down my work. What right had she? Who was she to effect me so? My breath started coming in heavy pants as I worked myself into anger. She must’ve heard my unsteady breath, because her brows furrowed in her sleep and she shifted, turning over, her dress riding up to the tops of her thighs. and with such a simple movement, I felt my anger dissipate. She looked to vulnerable like this...so innocent. Whatever it was she is doing to me, I cannot blame her. my gaze focussed on her once more, and I felt a pang of arousal as I took in her toned bare legs, and soon I felt a long-forgotten throbbing in my pants. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her skin, and I felt my cock grow hard because of it. I felt disgusted at myself. Here I was, spying on a sleeping, injured, vulnerable woman, and here I was, finding it arousing! I should not be feeling this way towards a human! It went against everything I thought I believed in. These past years I had been so blind; I had just been fooling myself. As Aisling stirred again, I thought it would be best to leave, before I woke her, before I started bursting out of my trousers. I could already feel them getting uncomfortably tight, pressing against my thick member. Luckily I had chosen to wear my long robe, which would helpfully hide my erection from the eyes of others.

Hastily, I made my way to my chambers, on the other side of the palace. Occasionally members of the palace court interrupted me, but I had to quickly and politely take my leave of them, as I was pretty sure my trousers were cutting off all blood supply to my rock hard cock. Finally I reached my bedchambers, hastily threw my robe onto the dresser at the side of the room, and collapsed down onto the large bed. The soft sheets comforted me, as my head sunk into the pillows. I slowly rubbed my hand over my trousers where my cock was pressing against and sighed at the pleasant feeling. I just needed to relax. But my mind wouldn't stop wandering back to the beautiful girl locked up in my dungeons. A damp patch formed where the tip of my cock was pressing against my trousers, as I imagined the body that was hidden underneath Aisling’s dress. I groaned loudly as a jolt of pleasure shot through me. I quickly undid my trousers and slid them half way down my thighs, just enough to slip my cock out, one hand wrapped around it. A feeling of guilt washed over me; I knew this was wrong, but I just couldn’t help myself, Aisling was too deliciously tempting. My hand gripped my member and slid up and down, harder and faster. I had forgotten what it felt like to be pleasured, it had been such a long time since I had last lain with a woman, or even pleasured myself. As my guilt intensified, I quickened my actions even more, trying to bring myself to climax before the guilt overwhelmed me. My hips started thrusting up, as I grew closer to my end, small grunts slipping out of my mouth. I imagined it was Ailsing that was gripping my cock, her small hands rubbing me, and it wasn’t long until my thrusting became erratic and I erupted over my hand as I slowed my actions, but not stopping until the last jolt of pleasure shook my body. I was breathing heavily again , my skin flushed from the workout. I felt paralysed for a second as I registered what I had just done. Guilt once again washed over me and I got up to wash the evidence of my shortcomings off my skin. Once I was clean and had managed to gain some sense of self-respect and composure, I slipped under the soiled, tousled sheets and settled into a peaceful and satisfied sleep, the corners of my lips lifting up gently. Yes, I could feel the ice around my heart melting, in awe of this wondrous woman.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil has a change of heart regarding his prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See any mistakes please let me know :)

I had been pacing around the study in my private chambers for the past hour. It’s been a week since I had last seen the prisoner woman – I thought it would be best to keep my distance after my… slight indiscretion – but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake her off my mind. I couldn’t forget the peace in her features as she slept. How I longed to feel such peace within myself once more. The way the firelight softly caressed her curves. How I longed to touch her soft porcelain skin. The gentle rise and fall of her full chest. How I longed to nuzzle and kiss the delicious space between her breasts. Perfection. Utterly sinful, yet delicious, perfection. That is the only way I could describe my bemusing temptress. A pang of guilt shot through me at the thought of my prisoner. I’ve kept her locked away, without doing any wrong. This thought saddened me – I didn’t want her to fear me, or hate me. No… quite the opposite in fact. This beautiful, untameable creature was meant to be free. 

A knock at my door sounded, pulling me out of my reverie. “Come”, I said in a monotone voice, sounding weary. Legolas appeared round the heavy oak door, face crumpled in concern.  
“Ada?”, he said, “You sound exhausted. Stop thinking so much”.

“My little leaf, mae g'ovannen. When you are King, you will understand how much thinking it takes to run our lands smoothly”, I replied with a chuckle. Legolas smiled and said, “What has happened that makes you so light-hearted recently, Ada?”. I smiled to myself; Legolas was always concerned for me, ever since he had fully understood that his mother left me… left us. That witch had soured my mood considerably over the past few thousand years, but I felt as though this was coming to pass. No longer did I feel guilty for letting Legolas grow up without a mother, no longer did I feel lonely, no longer did I feel the crushing weight of sadness looming over me.

“Dina. Do not get ahead of yourself, ionneg”, I said sternly,  
“Go; take the captain of your guard and train your soldiers; Calanon needs to toughen them up, I sense something big is coming” I ordered him, and he bowed and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Legolas, gi melin”, I said softly. A small smile lifted up my son’s face, a warm loving smile that I hadn’t seen in a long, long time. I realise now how I had been failing Legolas as a father, but I will make sure that changes.

“I know, Ada. You are in my heart too. Novaer, Ada. Be well”, and with that, he left.

As the heavy door swung shut, I once again felt alone; not just physically, but mentally. I huffed an irritated sigh; I couldn’t wait any longer, I was torturing myself – I had to visit the woman again. Every second I spent alone my thoughts drifted to her, and I could take it no longer. It was time to confront this silly infatuation head on so that I could… what are the words… ‘get over it’. I stalked over to the door and it slammed shut behind me.

 

Ada = father  
Mae g'ovannen = well met  
Dina = be silent  
Ionneg = my son  
Nikerym = Captain  
Gi melin = I love you  
Novaer Ada = farewell father

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

 

As I approached the dungeons, I heard the chatter of the keeper of the keys and some guards. I rounded a corner and almost walked right into them. Upon looking up and realizing they were in the presence of their King, they bumbled around, making desperate messy attempts at bowing, with apologetic looks cast upon their faces. After greeting me properly, the guards scurried off, probably back to their stations, embarrassed about being caught slacking off by their King. The keeper of the keys kept his head downcast, and handed the ring of heavy iron keys over to me. He then returned to his small office, leaving me to visit the prisoner in private. I once again made the journey down the small passageway to the end cell. Most of our dungeon was empty, apart from a few vagabonds; I suppose I usually opted for execution when it came to prisoners. I would not tolerate housing orc filth in my dungeons that was for sure. 

I quietly made my way to the cell that had been on my mind recently, and looked inside. The small thing was awake, but she hadn’t noticed me. This time, the light shone in from the tiny window high up on the back wall, casting a warm glow upon her otherwise pale skin. She was so perfect. It was almost as though she was a peredhil, but that was not possible. No one had heard from the half-elves for centuries. But…that could explain a lot. I supposed it was possible. Getting lost in my thoughts once more, I looked back to the woman and saw she was staring right back at me. Her gaze was piercing, but she didn’t look afraid. No, more like defensive…or fierce…or..aroused? Had I just caught her checking me out? A small smirk painted itself on my lips, as her eyes swam with lust. But who was I to talk, I’d had my own lustful thoughts of her…but she didn’t need to know that.

 

(AISLING POV)

I had been lost in thought, either worrying about my brother, or fantasizing about King Thranduil. It was then that I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, like I could sense someone watching me. I looked up towards the door from my seat on the floor and realized, with absolute shock, that none other than King Thrandy himself was stood there, with a sort of dazed, spaced-out look in his eyes, as though, while his body was standing right there, his mind was a million miles away.

I thought about maybe coughing, to pull him out of whatever thoughts were plaguing his mind, but instead just took the opportunity to roam my eyes over his body. He was tall…seriously tall. His body took up the whole doorway, blocking any view from the corridor outside. As fantastic, silver robe was draped over his shoulder and fastened with a beautiful, branch-like brooch. All I could make out underneath his robe was a plain grey tunic, some tight, darker grey pants, which did nothing to hide his junk might I add, and some knee high leather boots. Jheez, he looked just like he was in those movies, I was swooning right now. My lingered on his crotch; seriously, did he really have to parade around in leggings, that is just not fair. His dick was practically poking me in the face. Well, okay, maybe that’s not quite true, but it may as well be! My eyes reached his face again, and I realised I had been caught. He was stood there, all arrogant, as if he was a King (I know, shut up), smirking at me. I’m 99.9% sure that my face has now turned a delightful shade of pink, and didn’t he know it. I just wanted to smack that bemused smirk off his pretty little lips goddamit.

Minutes went by, neither one of us daring to break eye contact first, but not making a move to say anything. His eyes started to roam over my face and I became to grow uncomfortable. I cleared my throat a little, before letting out an oddly confident “Hey”. King Thrandy made some huffing sound which I assume was meant to be laughter, but I guess this guy doesn’t laugh much, so he gets points for trying.

“Hello, little one”, he replied politely, softly, whilst raising one perfect, thick, delicious eyebrow. (Seriously, what is with those eyebrows? So perfect, yum.)

“I have come to visit you”, he said. I rolled my eyes inwardly, and outwardly it would appear, as a look of disapproval spread onto his face. “Yes”, I replied, “I can see that”. That singular eyebrow arched even higher. How is that even possible? The look on his face was giving me excited little chills.

“Quite”, he answered. “I trust you are well?” he enquired. I rolled my eyes again, 

“Take a guess mister” – that clearly surprised him as shock spread across his features. I guess old King Thrandy isn’t used to sass.

“I’m injured, stuffed inside a cold, stone cell, in a dress that has been torn within an inch of its life. I supposed you could say NO, I’M NOT WELL”, I said irately, raising my voice. 

For a second, Thranduil actually looked guilty, but he quickly schooled his features and the same unimpressed, if not bored, mask covered his face. I guess he’d had a long time to practice.

“Yes, well. I apologise for your circumstances. It is most unfortunate”, he said, not one but of remorse in his tone. Actually, that line sounded automatic and rehearsed. I wonder how many prisoners he’s said that to before they’ve died down here.

“If you’re so sorry, why can’t you just let me go? Otherwise all your smart talking…it means nothing”

He seemed to ponder this for a second, but answered, “You could be a threat. I shall not release you when you’ve not told me anything about you”.

I sighed heavily; there was no point trying to argue with this man, “God! You are impossible!”, I cried, my voice getting higher in disbelief. He scowled at me then, and said, “How dare you speak to your King in such a way. You shall respect me, or you shall be left down here to starve”.

That surprised me, and scared me somewhat (though I hate to admit it). No more quizzical Thranduil; just cold, cruel Thranduil, like in the films. I tried to stop the hurt and fear I felt from showing on my face, but judging by the regretful look in King Thranduil’s eyes, I had failed miserably.

“Please”, he said desperately, “I…I did not.. I should not have shouted. I am sorry. But you must understand my reasons; if not from your viewpoint, but from mine, as a King. I cannot release some mysterious maiden into my lands, to mix with my people. You could be dangerous for all I know. Stay here, show me who you are, and I will judge if I can let you go. Please”, he asked. That was odd; have I just witnessed a vulnerable side of the King? But he was right. As a King, it would be foolish to let such an abnormal stranger into your kingdom. For all he knew, I could be some psycho murderer.

“Maiden, huh?” I chuckled. I saw him smile slightly, and quite some time passed before he replied,

“Well, I’d say you are more of a damsel in distress. It is only right that I look after said damsel”, he said. Was he flirting? NO WAY!

“Really? That’s odd, cus I feel more like a prisoner”. I knew I shouldn’t have said that, as soon as it came out my mouth I knew it was a bad idea. Immediately all laughter and happiness vanished from his face, and a somber expression took its place.

He seemed to consider something for a good long while, as his eyes grew out of focus. Soon his attention was back on me, a desperate excitement glittering in his eyes as he cried, “wait here!” and hurried off back down the corridor.

“WHAT! Its not as if I can go anywhere!!”, I called after him.

 

Peredhil = half-elf, half-human

* * * * * * * * *

(THRANDUIL POV)

I soon found what I was looking for. Or should I say who I was looking for. Aisling had managed to evoke emotions that had been buried so deep inside me that I had forgotten I had ever experienced them. She was infuriating, her wit was fierce, but she was utterly enchanting. She had bewitched me. Made me feel guilty, and sorry for her. I guess I admired her ability to stand up for herself; I certainly liked that in a woman, but having the ability to mince words with me whilst having the disadvantage of being locked up in my dungeons badly injured was nothing short of astounding. She was clearly a strong woman, despite her petite stature. Whilst she may lack the respect one should show their King, it did not truly anger me, and despite having the audacity to shout at me, it was clear she was no threat. But, I wasn’t going to tell her that. It’d be best to keep her in the palace for now, while I figure out what to do with her.

It was for these reasons that I had decided to set her free. Well, free from the cell, at least. I had spontaneously decided to give her a room in the castle, and keep her in there, rather than a cramped, dark cell. After all, she was no criminal. Of course, her room would have to be close to mine, so that I could keep a subtle eye on her, and she would be under house arrest – I would not let her leave her room, but it was surely better than staying in that cell.

That is why I left to find the young female serving girl that I had been told has been serving Aisling. Freya, I think her name is?

 

I approached the serving girl, who I had found in her room in the servants quarters. She was sat on a wooden stool, sewing up a tear on a dress. I coughed behind her to make presence known, and she shot up off the stool in surprise. 

“King Thranduil!”, she exclaimed, quickly dipping into a low curtsey, “I am so sorry! I was not expecting you, my Lord”.  
I smiled tightly and assured her it was alright.

“I have come to ask a favour of you”, I said, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Of course, my King. Anything”, she replied respectfully.

“You have recently been serving our female prisoner her food have you not?” I asked. 

“Y-yes, I… I have my Lord, upon Prince Legolas’ request. Have I done something wrong?” she asked concerned. 

“No, do not worry yourself, child”, I assured her, “I simply have a request. I shall allow you to decline, if it is not to your liking, but I do hope you will accept my proposition”, I said. She seemed to understand, and so I continued,

“The prisoner…Aisling, shall be freed from her cell and moved into one of the spare chambers close to my end of the castle. I have evaluated the threat she poses, and believe it is ok to give her some more freedom. She will not be permitted to leave the palace, under ANY circumstances, but she is not accustomed to our ways, as you might have realised, and so I am proposing that you become her maid. You shall obviously be perfoming fewer of your current jobs so that you are not stretched for time during your day. I know she comfortable around you, and I think she will appreciate seeing a familiar face each day.”

Freya was smiling widely, “Of course!”, she exclaimed, “I would love the opportunity. We have grown quite close, and I agree, I believe she will benefit from having a familiar person around her, rather than more strangers”. 

“Excellent. Oh, and do not tell her she is near my chambers. I wish to keep an eye on her, covertly”, I ordered.

“Of course, my Lord”, she said, bowing her head. And I replied,

“Right, follow after me then”. 

 

I made my way back down to the dungeons, with the maid one step behind me. I went to find the keeper of the keys, and requested that he bring me the female prisoner. A few minutes later he returned, one hand wrapped tightly around Aisling’s wrist. He began to get out a pair of handcuffs, but I shot him a hard look and quickly assured him that it was not necessary, which seemed to settle the somewhat panicked look on Aisling’s face.

“King Thranduil? Freya?” she said timidly, unsure of what was happening. Freya skipped forward and smiled broadly, to which Aisling’s face lit up as she jumped at Freya, locking her in a big hug. I felt a twinge of jealousy in my gut, which I knew was ridiculous, but I wished Aisling would one day be excited to see me like that.

“I have decided to keep you under house arrest. You are no longer my prisoner, more of a…guess. A guest who may not leave the palace”. Joy sparked in her eyes and she gushed words of thanks to both Freya and myself.

“Under no circumstances may you go outside, understood?” I said sternly, making her face crumple in annoyance.

“Enough now, little one. I have allocated you a room. If there is anywhere you wish to go inside the palace, you must ask Freya, or Prince Legolas, as I am sure he will wish to visit you soon. Now, follow me please”.

I set off at a good pace, eager to get Aisling to her room, where I knew she would be comfortable and safe. I had to slow my stride somewhat as she was quite a bit shorter than I, but I didn’t mind like I usually would. She grew even slower as we reached the main palace hallways, which were more elegantly decorated, finished with gold trimmings and marble statues. Her head whipped around as she tried to take everything in, eyes wide with amazement. I can’t blame her, my father had decorated the palace to perfection.

We soon reached the door to what would now be her room, and I stopped outside. 

“After you”, I said, looking Aisling in the eyes. She smiled timidly, and reached for the handle. I was so lost in her smile – it was so beautiful, that I didn’t register that she had entered the room until I heard a small gasp. I chuckled egotistically. This wasn’t even my best guest bedroom, but it was one of my favourites, which is why I had given it to her for now. 

It was a bright, open room. Not too large, and quite simple, but no less elegant or beautiful. The walls were a fresh white, which opened up the room. Large doors led to a balcony with just enough room for a small table and two chairs. In the centre of the room stood the large four-poster bed, with crisp white sheets, and marble pillars. Gold embellishment decorated the bed frame, giving it an elegance fit for the palace. The floor was a matching pale marble; so shiny you could see your reflection in it. At the other end of the room there was a smaller door, which led into the bathroom, also decorated in marble and gold, and in the far corner was a fireplace and large armchair, and the bare floor was covered with a fur rug. A large wardrobe loomed in another corner, and a dressing table stood at the end of the bed. Aisling’s face was filled with wonder and delight as she took all of this in, and I found it was a look that I hungered for. In this marble room, she looked like a goddess, all long blonde flowing hair and pale skin.

I took in her bedraggled appearance and remembered,

“Oh, there is a clean gown in the wardrobe, and I shall sent some more if you find that it fits. If not, I can send for the dress maker”.

“Wow. My word”, she said, “Thank you, King Thranduil. After seeing those same grotty four walls for so long, I was convinced your palace held no beauty, but it seems I was wrong”. I smiled at that, and called for Freya, who was waiting in the hallway outside.

“Freya shall be your maid from now on. She will wake you in the mornings, bring your meals – unless you wish to eat in the great hall, dress you and, well, make you presentable to elven standards; but, I do not think that will be a difficult task”, I said cheekily. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that, as both Aisling’s and the maid’s head shot in my direction. Oops. “If you need anything, you shall ask your maid”, I quickly went on, “I might check up on you now and then, but I do have a kingdom to run so don’t get your hopes up”, I said coldly, trying to play off my childish flirting.

“You won’t be with me?” she asked, sounding disappointed, “but how then how long till you’ll let me go? I don’t have anywhere else to go, no home, no money, no family, nothing. Please” she begged desperately, “please, please let me stay a while until I’ve learnt how you do things here, you know? I won’t survive on my own”

“Of course”, I replied, relief flooded her face, “it would not be fair to release you into a foreign world without anything to live off. Now, we shall leave you to get settled. Please do not leave your room till the morning – I shall send my son to give you a tour of the palace so that you do not get lost.”

Aisling chuckled, “I’m afraid getting lost is inevitable. I’ve never been very good with directions”, she said laughing. But something changed, and her face became sad, and said continued, “my parents knew that better than anyone”. Before I could ask her about that, she turned her back towards us, looking out of the window. I didn’t want to push it; she’s clearly had a trying day.

“I suggest you get some sleep. Goodnight, Aisling”, were my departing words, as the maid and I left the room. I didn’t have a busy schedule, I had lied, I thought it would be best if I left her alone for a while, to try and curb my blasted emotions before it became a problem I’d have to confront.


End file.
